


Urahara's Arrancar Rehabilitation Center

by KaiBlueOtaku



Series: Resolution!'verse [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: AU, AU setting, Arrancar, Cooking, Espada, Gen, Guitar, Music, dream - Freeform, gigai, ulquihime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiBlueOtaku/pseuds/KaiBlueOtaku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ulquiorra is resurrected by Orihime, and she confides in Urahara for help. He decides to replicate the results on some of the other Espada. Can they be rehabilitated from violent sociopaths to productive members of society?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Bleach and all its characters are owned by the talented Tite Kubo. I own only my story, and am merely borrowing them to tell it. I receive no payment for my writing.
> 
> A/N: This story is a follow-up to my first story, Resolution, and comes right after it in the timeline. It will make more sense if you read that one first... 
> 
> This is cross-posted on FF.net and AFF.org

“Ulqui-kun?”

                An emerald green eye cracked open.  “What is it, Onna?”

                Orihime stood backlit by the early-morning light coming through the doorway of her bedroom, twisting the hem of her yellow button up blouse nervously between her fingers.  It had been two weeks since she had woken up with Ulquiorra lying next to her in her bed, resurrected by her in her sleep by the powers of her Shun Shun Rikka.  The Ex-Espada had retained all of his memories up until his death at the hands of the Substitute Shinigami, Ichigo Kurosaki, but seemed now to be otherwise completely human.  Save for that of still being more spiritually aware than the average person, he had none of the abilities he had possessed in his life as an Arrancar, which he had attributed to the fact that she had “rejected his fate” to have become a Hollow in the first place, and now, he was as human as he had been before his death, before ever having become a Hollow.

                Orihime had been hiding him in her apartment all this time, afraid to tell anyone of his existence, but now she had become worried.  He napped constantly, it seemed to her, and she was concerned there was something wrong with him.

                “I need you to come somewhere with me,” she pleaded.  He sat up slowly, recognizing the distress in his lover’s voice instantly.

                “I do not understand, Onna,” he replied, using the pet-name he had come to refer to her by.  “Why do you require me to accompany you, and where is the destination?”

                She bit her lip, tears threatening in her silver eyes.   _I will not cry, I will not cry,_ she chanted mentally, taking a deep breath.  She held his jacket out toward him briskly.  “Please,” she insisted.  “Please just trust me, and come?”

                He stood, faltering a moment, causing her breath to catch in her throat as her arm shot out in an attempt to steady him.  The look he gave her was chilling and indignant, but she knew he meant nothing by it.  He had always had that way about him, even as an Espada.  Almost proud, easily annoyed, and overly serious.  Along with his memories, and his general physical appearance, it was the only real trait he retained from when he had been an Arrancar.  She assumed that his personality was not something that was able to be ‘healed’ by her Rikka, as his body was, but truthfully, it didn’t bother her.  She had seen the gentle, loving side of him; the side which was reserved only for her, and which only seemed to come out when they were alone together, during their most intimate moments.  She had expected that once he was human, and Murcielago was no longer warring with him inside his head for control, that maybe he would be softer more frequently, but that had not turned out to be the case.  He still retained his stony façade most of the time, though she was able to read him like a book, much to his frequent dismay.

                He reached out and took the black hooded sweatshirt from her, pulling the jacket on over his grey t-shirt and zipping it up against the cool chill of the early spring wind that blew outside.  “I will come with you,” he conceded, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets, following her outside into the sunlight. 

                This was the first time he had been outside during the day, and the brightness hurt his eyes.  He put his hood up to help shield them, and bowed his head as he walked beside her.  He had snuck out a few times at night, while the Onna had been sleeping, just to stare at the night sky, and the moon.  He wasn’t sure why, but something about it made him feel a little more at ease, in this strange new world with all its unfamiliar contraptions and complexities.

                It was not very far they had to go, which he was thankful for, because he was feeling faint by the time they arrived at the destination.  “Onna, could you not have gone to the store on your own?” he asked her, the irritation thick in his voice.

                She shot him a worried look, and called out loudly, “Urahara-san?”

                Ulquiorra’s blood ran cold in his veins, and he bristled.  “Onna, why would you bring me  _here…?”_

                “I… I-I didn’t want to take you to a regular doctor until I had you checked out by someone…  Um… M-more ‘sensitive’ to your situation…” she explained lamely.  “I’m sorry, Ulqui-kun, I just…  I didn’t think you’d come, if you knew where.”

                His jaw set on edge as Kisuke Urahara poked his head out of the front door of the shop.  Ulquiorra had never met the man personally, but he had heard enough to know his reputation.  Kisuke Urahara bordered in Ulquiorra’s opinion somewhere between ‘service personnel’ and ‘witch doctor,’ and he was sure no good could come of this visit.

                “Ohh!  Inoue-san!  Welcome!” Kisuke called in an effeminate sing-song, splaying a fan in front of his face.  The tip of his cane as well as his traditional wooden geta* clacked softly on the boards of the front porch as he crossed it, coming out to greet her.  “Who is your handsome friend?  He looks somewhat familiar…”

                “Ulquiorra Cifer,” the Ex-Espada introduced himself curtly.

                Kisuke’s eyes narrowed he brought his cane up along his side and laid his opposite hand on it, ready to draw Benihime, his Zanupakto, from its sheath, hidden in the guise of a cane.  He widened his stance and glared out from under the brim of his green and white striped bucket hat, coldly stating, “The Cuatra Espada is deceased, but you certainly bear more than an unnerving resemblance to him.”

                Orihime laid a soft, assuaging hand over Kisuke’s, and smiled wanly.  “Please, that’s not necessary.  May we come inside?  I’ll explain everything.”

                Kisuke’s eyes went wide, and Orihime looked back over her shoulder in time to see Ulquiorra’s eyes roll back in his head as he collapsed in a heap on the ground.  “Oh no!” she cried in distress.  “I’m too late!”

                Kisuke stood down, and clapped his hands.  “Tessai!”

                A massive, burly man, who looked as though he would be more at home in a blacksmith shop than a convenience store, stepped out onto the porch.  “Yes sir?”

                Kisuke motioned with his folded fan to the unconscious man lying in the yard.  “Could you collect our guest here, and bring him inside?  And put some tea on.”

WWWWWWWWWW

                Ulquiorra’s head was spinning.  He opened his eyes, and found he was lying on a futon mat, covered with a blanket.  He could hear soft voices of the Onna and the shop keeper coming from the other side of a door.  He could see their shadows projected on the rice-paper screen panels.

                “…tests say?” she asked, her voice heavy with worry.

                “Well, I can say for certain; it’s remarkable, but he is absolutely human,” the shop keeper assured her.  “If he’s ever in need of any medical treatment in the future, I’ll always take him here of course, but don’t be afraid to take him to a clinic or somewhere like that; they won’t detect anything out of the ordinary.”

                Orihime’s shadow raised its hand to its chest, and she let out an audible sigh of relief.  “Oh, thank goodness.  But what was wrong?”

                Kisuke unfolded his fan, and held it in front of his face.  “He’s  _human,_ my dear.  He’s suffering from common mortal maladies he hasn’t had to deal with in so long, he’s forgotten how to.  Malnutrition.  Dehydration.  Common exhaustion.  Does he sleep at night?”

                “Um…”  Orihime grew quiet, and Ulquiorra guessed well enough that she was blushing furiously, thinking about trying to explain to Kisuke how the young pair frequently spent their nights.

                “Oh, I  _see_ …” Kisuke countered with a coy, knowing tone that irked Ulquiorra very much.  “Well, that  _does_ explain things a bit more…”  His shadow leaned toward Orihime’s ear and Ulquiorra could not hear what he said to her at that point, but her hands flew to her face, a gesture which he well-knew signified extreme embarrassment on her part.

                “Oh, no…”  She was shaking her head.  “I’ll…  Ok.  I won’t.”

                “You little minx,” Kisuke chuckled, swatting playfully at her shoulder with the folded fan.

                Ulquiorra wasn’t quite sure what had been said in their little private exchange, but it made him uneasy, and he’d had enough of this eavesdropping.  He tried to stand to go in to join them, but he was still too weak and fell on one knee, cursing, knocking over an empty cup that had been placed beside the bed.  Fortunately, he had not knocked over the pitcher alongside it, which was very full of cold water.  The door slid open, and the two of them peeked in.  “Oh, good, you’re awake!” Kisuke lilted, coming in gaily.  “Please, do drink some of that water.  When you’re ready, I’ve had Tessai prepare something light for you to eat.  You’re probably starving, my dear boy!”

                Ulquiorra felt a stabbing in his midsection, and laid his hand over the area.  Hunger.  This was all still rather new to him, and he was disappointed in himself to learn that the Onna’s worry had been caused because he had been caring inadequately for his human body.  While she was gone at school during the day, he never thought to eat, because he hadn’t required food as an Espada in Las Noches.  He sometimes ate dinner with her, but to be honest, he was leery of human food.  The flavors were awful, and made him feel like vomiting.  He only ever choked something down when the Onna insisted, because he knew she had lovingly cooked it for him.

                Ulquiorra sipped on some water, and was surprised how refreshing it tasted.  He began to swallow it in huge gulps, and Kisuke held his cane apprehensively toward him.  “Hey, you’d better slow down, there…  You don’t want to make yourself sick.”  Ulquiorra glared at the reprimand, but did as the white-haired man had bidden him, knowing he was still at a disadvantage regarding knowledge of this human body.

                “I took the liberty of examining you while you were unconscious,” Kisuke informed him, much to his irritation, “And I found something strange…”  He pulled down a panel in a cabinet, revealing a monitor and a keyboard.  “There seems to be a Reitsu** tied to yours, almost the same way a Tsukirei*** functions.  It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and I can’t explain it.”  Kisuke clacked away at the keyboard, staring intently into the display.

                Ulquiorra attempted to stand again, with more success this time.  Orihime rushed to his side and walked at his elbow, accompanying him to where Kisuke stood before the computer.  Ulquiorra glanced down at the screen, and asked, “Can you reproduce a sample of the Reitsu?”

                Kisuke’s eyes widened, and he gaped.  “Clever fellow, this one!” he remarked to Orihime, motioning to him with his thumb.  He turned to Ulquiorra.  “I think I can, though it will be very weak and brief.”

                “It will suffice, I am sure.”

                Kisuke went in back and gathered some equipment, bringing a few devices with him and plugging them into the computer, then typing in a series of commands.  “Ok, pay attention, this won’t last long.”

                All of them fixed their eyes above the surface of something that looked suspiciously like a highly modified hot plate, and Kisuke flipped a switch.  A small, electric blue flame sizzled for a second or two, then faded out, leaving an odor of melting plastic and, strangely, pineapple.

                “Grimmjow,” Ulquiorra whispered.

                Orihime’s eyes widened.  “Really?  But how?”

                Ulquiorra thought for a moment, closing his eyes.  “He used his Gran Rey Cero inside the dome, during his battle with Kurosaki.  It caused a rift in space, and somehow he got pulled through and ended up in the Caja de Negacion with me briefly.  He vanished, but I have felt him nearby recently, and I have seen him in my dreams.  I believe being trapped with me in the Caja de Negacion may have locked his Reitsu to mine, especially since I was technically dead for a short time.  Pulling my Reitsu back out from the void when the Onna resurrected me must have drawn him here as well.”  Ulquiorra turned to the blank stares of Kisuke and Orihime.  “That is only a theory, though.”

                Orihime and Kisuke stared at each other for a moment, and then the older man opened his fan and hid demurely behind it.  “ _Well_  then,” he began awkwardly, “If you are feeling well enough now Cifer-san, please come and have a bite to eat.”  He ushered the couple into the adjacent room, and seated them at a low table.

                Tessai brought in dishes of steamed vegetables with rice.  “Just something small, to help you regain enough energy to make it home,” Kisuke assured him when Ulquiorra peered meekly at the bowl, his face becoming a lighter shade of his eyes.  “Come, come, now, surely you must be hungry.”

                “I am apprehensive of human food,” Ulquiorra admitted, poking at it with his chopsticks.

                “Oh for goodness sake,” Kisuke chided, fanning himself rapidly.  “A tough fellow like you, an Ex-Espada, and you’re put off by a little bowl of steamed rice and vegetables?  Inoue-san, will you kindly show the boy how it’s done?”

                Ulquiorra was annoyed by the glib manner of this shop keeper, and his overly-familiar style of dealing with someone he had only just met.

                “C’mon, Ulquiorra,” Orihime said, feigning enthusiasm as she grabbed a bowl and some chopsticks, stuffing a big bite into her mouth.  She chewed for a moment or two, then made a face, muttering from behind her hand to Kisuke so that Ulquiorra couldn’t quite hear, something about chocolate sauce. 

                The shop keeper froze and turned slowly to her, his suddenly pale face regarding her warily, then eyeing Ulquiorra.  “Does she do all the cooking?”

                “I do not know how to cook,” Ulquiorra confirmed.

                Kisuke grabbed a bowl and a set of chopsticks himself, and took a bite.  “Please, just try some,” he urged.

                Somewhat encouraged by the fact that the shop keeper didn’t seem to have any trouble eating the food, Ulquiorra took a small bite.  His eyes widened, and he chewed slowly then swallowed, looking at the bowl with intensity.  He took another bite, larger this time, and chewed with a little more vigor.  Kisuke sat back on his heels and fanned himself, grinning with satisfaction as the young man polished off his bowl, and then proceeded to eat the remainder of Orihime’s, which she offered to him when she saw how famished he was.

                “I always cook plenty of food,” Orihime muttered, a pang of guilt in her voice as she watched Ulquiorra verily shoveling food down his throat.

                Kisuke reached over and put his hand on her shoulder, patting her kindly.  “Well my dear, ‘there’s no accounting for taste’ now, as they say, is there?”

                After Ulquiorra had rested a short time and Kisuke was satisfied he was hale enough to safely trek the distance home under Orihime’s watchful eye, the shop keeper spoke to them together.  “Could you drop him off here tomorrow, dear?  On your way to school?”  Ulquiorra eyed the shopkeeper dubiously, and Kisuke waved his fan in a dismissive fashion at him.  “Oh, don’t worry.  I was just going to check up on your health.  Maybe look into that issue regarding the Reitsu you have tied to you.  Maybe put you to work around the shop,” Kisuke said, laughing, and Ulquiorra wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.  “I’m sure you’re bored stupid sitting at home all day waiting for Orihime to get back.”

                Ulquiorra could not deny this fact.  Television held no interest to him, and since he was still technically a ‘secret,’ he was not allowed to visit or converse with anyone else, not that there was anyone other than Orihime with whom he would have willingly chosen to share company with anyway.  He generally found everyone aside from the Onna to be intolerable, and even she at times pushed his limits.  But the boredom won out, and he gave a frigid, “Fine,” to Kisuke before turning to leave.

                “Oh, excellent!”  The shop keeper’s profound enthusiasm regarding this issue was disconcerting to Ulquiorra, but he passed it off as simply part of the man’s eccentric personality.  “I’ll see you both bright and early tomorrow!” he called, waving to Orihime, and Ulquiorra’s cold shoulder, as they left.

WWWWWWWWWW

                The next morning, Ulquiorra followed Orihime to the shop.  He was in an irritable mood, because the Onna had inexplicably set him up a bed on the couch last night.  It wasn’t that the couch was particularly uncomfortable, just that he had become accustomed to sleeping beside her, and the… ‘benefits…’ which accompanied that arrangement.

                Truth be told, once he got past his irritation at having been given no explanation other than her blushing and immovable insistence, he had actually slept quite soundly on the couch.  While he thoroughly enjoyed the feel of her soft, warm curves nestled beside him even when they weren’t being intimate together, the Onna was a particularly restless sleeper.  That was not to say that she was not a  _sound_ sleeper; quite to the contrary.  Though she tossed and turned and thrashed around all night long, she could barely be roused, even when he found a knee or a pointy elbow jamming into his person at some indelicate angle.  Every time she rolled over or flung a limb in his direction, he was jolted awake, sometimes with great difficulty to find his way back to slumber.  Thus, his frequent nocturnal excursions to the back yard, to stare at the sky. 

                While there were many new and wonderful things here in the World of the Living, with the Onna being at the top of his list, he still found himself disconcerted at times by all of it.  His body was strange to him, as were all the emotions he experienced on a daily basis, which he could not put names to, let alone begin to comprehend.  He knew that the gentle, protective feeling he got when he was around the Onna was what she referred to as ‘love.’  He did not doubt her, any more than he doubted the feeling itself, but it was all so new and unfamiliar, and at times, overwhelming.

                Hueco Mundo had been so different.  Not better, not by a long shot, but…  Simpler, he decided.  The stark white walls and uniforms.  The unchanging sky and lack of seasons.  There, everything was black and white, cut and dried.  You knew your rank, and who was above you, and who was below you, and that was that.  Power was everything.  Friendship was unknown; just tenuously held alliances, which only stood until one or the other of the parties decided their own needs were no longer being adequately served by the arrangement.  Then you killed the other one.

                Ulquiorra knew that was unacceptable behavior in the World of the Living.  Here, it was considered desirable to walk alongside someone, and have peers in your life.  The concept was very alien to Ulquiorra, and he struggled with it.  He constantly felt as though he were struggling against his natural desire for rank here, awash in a confusing sea of circumstance and emotion.

                Ulquiorra plodded dutifully along, a step or two behind Orihime as they approached the shop.  He was dreading this.  If he had his old body still, and his Arrancar abilities, he would have been confident and fearless going in there.  Even if the Onna had remained there with him, it would have seemed better.  But with the prospect of the Onna leaving for school, he was uneasy about what might happen in there with that demented shop keeper.  He hung his head and glared balefully at Kisuke as they came up to the front of the shop.

                “Oh, good morning!” Kisuke called cheerily, leaning at a precarious angle in a straight-backed wooden chair, his feet kicked up on one of the posts of the porch.

                “Have a good day, Ulqui-kun,” Orihime told him sweetly, giving him a chaste peck on the lips before turning back toward the street.  “I’ll come by to pick you up after class.”

                Ulquiorra nodded, his hands balled in angry fists, stuffed deeply in his pockets.  He hated this rage he seemed to feel all the time now.  It was not the Onna’s fault that she had to go to class.  This was the World of the Living; it’s how things were done here.  He knew he should be thankful that she was caring for him so well, trying to keep him entertained instead of stuck sitting at home bored mindless, staring at the walls all day.  But the fury rose in him anyway.

                As soon as Orihime rounded the corner, he felt a hand grab the crook of his elbow and yank him roughly toward the shop.  “Come on, she’s gone!” Kisuke hissed, the urgency in his voice piquing Ulquiorra’s curiosity, his vexation momentarily displaced by his shock.

                Inside, the most tantalizing aromas made an audible growl erupt from the famished pit of his empty stomach.  “You poor boy,” Kisuke commiserated, clucking his tongue as he seated Ulquiorra in front of a huge spread of all manner of breakfast foods.  “Now, please try a little bit of everything.  I’d like to get an idea of what you like, so that we know where to begin.”

                Ulquiorra didn’t understand the shop keeper’s statement, but at the moment, he couldn’t care.  This food all looked amazing.  Things he didn’t know the names of, but the smells called out to him, and he hardly knew where to begin.  He took a spoon full of scrambled eggs onto his plate, and took a bite.  He closed his eyes, sighing contentedly as he chewed.  It was delicious.  All of this was so different from what the Onna cooked; he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he had been initially misled about human food.

                He reached toward the next plate to serve himself a portion, and hesitated.  There were the things the Onna had called _pancakes._ He looked around the table cautiously.

                “Butter and syrup?”  Kisuke offered.

                “The green paste,” Ulquiorra frowned.  “The spicy one.  I do not care for it.”

                Kisuke blanched slightly.  “Wasabi?  On pancakes?”  He gave Ulquiorra a pitying look.  “No wonder you were malnourished, you poor boy.  Inoue-san seems to have a very peculiar sense of flavor combining.”

                “So it would seem,” Ulquiorra agreed, taking portions from other plates and eating until he felt satisfied.  “Thank you,” he told the shop keeper awkwardly once he had finished.  He wasn’t accustomed to verbally expressing gratitude, but he knew it was expected here.

                “Oh, you’re very welcome, Cifer-san,” Kisuke said.  “If you’re done, I’d like your assistance in a certain matter.”

                Standing to accompany Kisuke to the back of the shop, Ulquiorra had just begun to think that maybe he’d had the wrong idea about the shop keeper, when his eyes fell on a shock of electric blue hair.

                Grimmjow, lying dead, on a table.

                Ulquiorra’s hand instantly flew to his side, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there, and hadn’t been for some time.  He cursed himself, glancing around for something to use as a weapon, wondering if he had adequate strength to wrest the shop keeper’s own Zanupakto from him and use it against him.  “What is the meaning of this?”  Ulquiorra demanded in a low growl.

                Kisuke turned innocently from where he’d been fiddling with a pile of wires and cords.  “Huh?”  He followed Ulquiorra’s gaze, and smiled.  “Oh, do you like it?  Does it look enough like him?  I whipped it up last night, after you left.  I’m going to try to channel his Reitsu into it, but I need your help, since he’s bound to you.”

                Realization slowly dawned over the Ex-Espada.  He had heard of a Gigai before, but he was not familiar with them personally.  Somehow, the idea of an artificially crafted body did not sit well with him.  He walked closer to inspect it.

                It was the spitting image of Grimmjow, minus the Hollow hole, Espada tattoo, and of course, the broken mask remnants that had once lined his right jaw.  Ulquiorra began to lift the sheet that covered the body, suddenly curious if it was… ‘complete.’

                Kisuke slapped his hand and Ulquiorra dropped the sheet, shooting daggers from his eyes in the direction of the mad scientist.  “I assure you, no detail has been left wanting,” he said nonchalantly, as if this were a question he answered on a regular basis.  He gestured to a nearby chair.  “Please, take a seat.”

                Ulquiorra grudgingly did as he was asked.  He knew that he owed Grimmjow this much at least, for saving the Onna for him when he was unable to.  It would be unacceptable to allow him to drift for eternity, trapped alone, in some unknown plane between the realms.

                Kisuke proceeded to strap all manner of sensors and monitors to Ulquiorra’s arms and chest, and put some sort of helmet on his head.  The device pricked his scalp uncomfortably.  These contraptions were wired directly to some similar ones being worn by the Gigai.

                “Alright, I think we’re ready,” Kisuke said, adjusting a few of the knobs.  “What I’m going to do is, open a breach to the space that Grimmjow is trapped in.  I’ll need you to travel through it and bring him back.  The machines will take care of the rest.  Do you understand?”

                “Yes,” Ulquiorra said, and was alarmed as he was unexpectedly jolted out of his chair.  “What…  Just happened?”  He looked around, highly disturbed to see himself, still sitting in the chair with his eyes closed, strapped into the machines, which were beeping and flashing and monitoring his status.

                “Well, you can’t take your body in there now, can you?” Kisuke chuckled.  A small device on the floor whizzed to life and ripped a tear in the fabric of space, revealing a purple miasma of darkness.  “Oh, take this,” Kisuke added, motioning to an object lying on a nearby table.

                Ulquiorra picked it up, and examined it.  It looked very similar to the Substitute Shinigami’s pass which he was known to use to leave his body in urgent situations.  “What is it for?” Ulquiorra asked, stuffing it into his pocket.

                “His body may be trapped in there as well,” Kisuke admitted.  “We can’t have you bringing a fully functioning Arrancar into the World of the Living.  He will have to abandon his body in the Precipice World.”

                “If he is merely trapped in the Precipice World, why can I not simply go and retrieve him?” Ulquiorra asked.

                Kisuke shook his head.  “It’s not that simple.  He’s not trapped exactly  _in_ the Precipice, but more in the walls of it.  Inside the Koryu, or Wresting Flow, I think.  Follow your Soul Chain; it should lead you to him, since his Reitsu is wound with it right now.  If you end up in the Precipice, there should be a fissure in space leading through the Koryu that allows you to travel to his direct location.  You had better hurry, though.”

                Ulquiorra nodded, and stepped though the tear into darkness.

                He was unnerved at how much this place reminded him of his inner world, when he had encountered Murcielago for the first time during his Jinzen.****  He kept expecting to hear the sound of bat-like wings in the darkness, but it never came.  He walked along the darkness, feeling the damaged space shifting around him.  He looked back frequently, to be sure he still had line of sight on his exit.  Following his Soul Chain, he began to notice tendrils of blue Reitsu tangled in the links.

                He followed the glowing blue chain to the unconscious form of Grimmjow.  Moving quickly, Ulquiorra slipped the pass out of his pocket and slapped it against Grimmjow’s chest, jolting his body and his soul apart.  “What the…?”

                “Come with me,” Ulquiorra ordered, and dragged the confused soul to the exit.

                Grimmjow blinked in the bright light of the room, uncomprehending of what was going on.  He had been trapped in that pocket dimension for what felt like eternities, finally resigning himself to just trying to sleep as long as possible.  But he had been rudely woken from his sleep, and seemingly dragged along by…  Who?  He looked around, seeing two people standing near him.  The first one, he didn’t know, but the second one…

                “Welcome back.”

                 _That voice…_   Grimmjow knew there was no mistaking it.   _But it couldn’t be…  Ulquiorra has teal colored Estigma tear-marks…_   

                The shopkeeper saw the confusion on Grimmjow’s face, and reached over to yank up Ulquiorra’s shirt, revealing his lithe, well-sculpted abdomen was completely intact.  “No hole, same as you now.”  Ulquiorra’s scowl as he snatched his shirt out of Kisuke’s hand was lost on Grimmjow, who was frantically inspecting his own chest.

                “What’s going on?” Grimmjow demanded, ire rising in his voice as he realized he was wearing nothing but a sheet.  Usually, that was one of his favorite outfit choices, when accompanied by the usual circumstances, but this was about the furthest thing from what he could consider ‘usual.’

                 “Your Reitsu was wound with Ulquiorra’s Soul Chain, and so we tracked you down.  You were trapped in the Koryu, so we brought you back and put you in this Gigai,” Kisuke said lightly.

                Grimmjow scowled and extended his arm, leveling a pointed finger at the shop keeper.  He lay still for a moment, and then looked at his hand, sort of shaking it as if it was broken.  “What the hell…”

                “Your Arrancar abilities, such as Cero, were left with your body, which was abandoned in the Koryu,” Ulquiorra told him darkly, seemingly displeased that he was trying to blast this mad scientist, though there was an underlying sliver of admiration for Grimmjow’s decisive lack of self-control.

                “I’m…  human?”  Grimmjow sat up, looking at his hands in wonder.

                “Close enough to fool anyone who might be inspecting your Gigai,” Kisuke assured him, fiddling with some equipment.  “Speaking of inspecting you, I need to perform a general exam, to be sure everything is alright.  I’ve never pulled a spirit out of its body in the Koryu before, there might be some unforeseen complications…”

                Grimmjow reluctantly assented to the exam.  As the pale-haired shop-keeper passed a machine over him, his face became darkly serious.  He stepped back, glancing at Ulquiorra, and then left the room briefly.  “What?”  Grimmjow demanded, calling after him.  “What is it?!”

                Kisuke returned with the modified hot plate-looking device, and plugged it in.  “Stranger and stranger,” he muttered to himself as he fiddled with the technology.  He gave a questioning look to Ulquiorra, who stepped forward and nodded in confirmation as Kisuke flipped a switch.

                Grimmjow watched in amazement as a small, bright yellow flame sizzled briefly to life above the surface of the device, and then flashed out, leaving a residual odor of salt water and ozone.  His breath caught in his throat.   _I know that Reitsu…_ “Hallibel,” he whispered, looking longingly after the tiny flame that had flickered out before him.

                Ulquiorra had a strange look on his face, and was staring intently at Grimmjow, trying to discern something unseen.  “Can you bring her back also?”  Ulquiorra asked, his eyes fixated on Grimmjow as he addressed the shop keeper.  He saw the poorly veiled desperation in the ice-blue eyes fall away at the suggestion of resurrecting her, replaced by a soaring relief, and a fierce determination.

                “Oh, I suppose so,” Kisuke said, typing at the keyboard as he peered into the display.  “This looks a little more involved, but it won’t be too much trouble.  I’ll need until tomorrow to put a Gigai together for her, though.”

                “Hey, can I have some clothes already?” Grimmjow snapped irritably, the distant look in his eyes gone as he came back to his usual, annoying self.

WWWWWWWWWW


	2. Chapter 2

 “Oh Ulqui-kun!  How was your…”  Orihime’s sing-song tone trailed off as school books slipped out of her hands and clattered to the floor.  “…day?”  Her face was a mask of shock and terror as she came through the door into Kisuke’s dining room to find Ulquiorra and the shop keeper seated with none other than Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.  Her mind flashed back to the last time she saw him, fighting with Kurosaki in Hueco Mundo, and all the traumatic memories of those days came upon her in a torrential, paralyzing rush.

                “Inoue-san, do come in!  How was your day?” Kisuke inquired.  “Please, come have some tea with us.  We were just discussing the terms and conditions of Grimmjow’s stay here.”

                Her wariness was evident, all but palpable to everyone in the room and she sat at the table across from the blue-haired Ex-Espada.  He regarded her with a sidelong smirk, and a long, quiet, uncomfortable moment fell over the room.

                Grimmjow wheeled then on her, slamming his palms down on the table, shouting, “BOO!”  Tea sloshed from cups onto the table, and Ulquiorra gave him a bone-chilling glare as Orihime shrank in her seat.

                “Tch.  That’s exactly the sort of thing I was talking about, Grimmjow,” Kisuke scolded over Grimmjow’s maniacal laugher.  “You’re not in Las Noches anymore.  These aren’t Arrancar you’ll be dealing with, they’re humans.  You’re going to have to lean some social skills, and how to get along with people.”

                Grimmjow’s laughter subsided, and he wiped a tear from his eyes.  “Eh, ok, I was just kidding.”  He grinned at Orihime, who was still cowering slightly, and would not look at him.  Ulquiorra scooted closer to her, putting his arm protectively around her and staring Grimmjow down.  He could feel the seething hatred of the Cuatra’s Reitsu as he restrained himself from dishing out the sort of punishment such insubordination had once warranted.  The anger that Grimmjow saw in him though was not due to the disrespectful behavior itself he realized, so much as  _who_  it had been directed at.  This gave him a slight pang in his chest.  “Geez guys, I’m sorry.”  He averted his gaze, feeling sad suddenly, seeing the two of them there together like that.  “I’m sorry, Orihime,” he added, almost inaudibly.

                She was taken aback by this, and peered at his face, seeing sincere pain there.  “It’s ok, Grimmjow.”  He hadn’t been expecting that, and wondering shock replaced his pain.  Orihime forced a cheery smile.  “I know this is going to be hard for you.  In Hueco Mundo, there was always a sense of ranking.  But humans don’t try to be above or below anyone, we try to be equals.  It will be a challenge for you, but if you’ll take our help, we’d like to teach you.”

                A reverent hush came over the room, and Orihime’s words, wise beyond her years, cut deeply to the heart of the matter.  His face softened, and he gave a slight nod, full of tentative hope.  She extended her hand to him, and he shook it, a genuine smile on both their faces this time.

                “It looks like we’ll have to come up with a curriculum,” Urahara pondered, the tip of his fan pressed against his lips thoughtfully.

                “Curriculum?” Orihime repeated, confused.

                “Rehabilitation, my dear,” the shop keeper said.  “They have to learn to be productive members of society.  Jaegerjaquez-san here specifically seems to need some anger management and sensitivity training.  They all will need basic skills courses, to learn how to care for their human bodies, so we don’t have a relapse of poor Ulquiorra’s malady from yesterday…  By the way, how did you sleep last night, Cifer-san?”

                Ulquiorra saw Orihime’s eyes drop to the table and she fiddled nervously with of one of the tea cups as a pink blush spread over her cheeks.  “Fine,” he said, remembering his night on the couch, and her blush deepened.

                “Oh, excellent.  I asked Miss Inouse-san to be sure to let you get a few good nights’ sleep.  You seem to have been suffering from sexual over-exertion in addition to the rest of you troubles, and…”  Urahara stopped as Orihime stood, her face aflame, and bashfully excused herself, hiding behind her hands.

                 _So that was what he told her,_ Ulquiorra realized, remembering the whispered portion of the conversation he’d heard the previous day.  It also explained his night on the sofa.  He stood and bowed curtly.  “I will return tomorrow, Urahara-san.  Thank you for your hospitality.”

                Kisuke smiled, waving dismissively with his fan.  “Oh, of course, Cifer-san!  Any friend of Inoue-san’s is a friend of mine…”

                Grimmjow watched with some trepidation as Ulquiorra gave him a parting nod, and left.

                “Well, let’s get you a room set up.  We can find you a more permanent place to live sometime down the road, but you can stay here at the shop for a while.”  Urahara stood, and led Grimmjow to a small room.  There was a mattress rolled up against one wall, and sparse furnishings.  “It’s not much, but it will do for now,” the shop keeper offered with a smile.

                Grimmjow was surprised.  This whole strange adventure was unexpected, especially the undeniable kindness he had seen in these humans, when he was so far from deserving of it.  “Thank you,” he managed to mumble, but was beginning to feel a little choked up.  There were a lot of emotions running through him now that he wasn’t used to dealing with, and it was a little overwhelming.  Anger, he was accustomed to.  That was his primary response to anything before, in Las Noches, where power was everything.   _Ulquiorra’s woman was right,_  he thought to himself.   _I feel like I’m struggling for rank.  Trying to top somebody, or figure out who’s above me.  This is going to take some getting used to._

                “I’ll let you get settled in.  Feel free to explore the shop later, or if you’d like Tessai can show you around.  I have got some work to attend to for now, so I’ll see you around dinner time.”  With that, the shop keeper excused himself, and Grimmjow was alone.

                He wasn’t sure what qualified as “settling in,” since he didn’t have any belongings, but he unrolled the mattress and made the bed neatly.  Then, bored, he lay down to take a nap.

                While he slept, he dreamed.  He was in an orchard, and it was the blackest, moonless night.  The darkness pressed heavily from all sides, and bone-chilling cold shot through him.  In the distance, he could see a light, so he began to move toward it.  The branches reached out and scratched at his skin and clothing as he passed, his shoes crunching dead leaves covered in frost underfoot.  Getting closer, he could see that the light was actually a campfire, but the flames were the same color as his own Reitsu.  On the other side of the fire from where he stood, he saw a person huddled in a cloak.  In the flickering light, he peered beneath the hood and could see it was…

                “Hallibel…”  His voice was swallowed by the darkness, and she seemed to not hear him.  She was in a deep state of meditation, focusing intently on the leaping flames before her, oblivious to the surrounding world.  Her hand was outstretched, reaching into the fire, but she was not burned by it.  Her fingers were closed around a length of chain that lay in the center of the flames, which seemed to come out of the ground.

                He stood watching her for some time, but she never moved, frozen in place, transfixed, her focus unwavering.  He realized suddenly that she was softly humming a wordless tune, but he felt somehow that she’d been singing it all along, only that he couldn’t hear it before now. 

                The song was the most beautiful thing Grimmjow had ever heard in his entire existence.  It made his heart leap wildly in his chest, his pulse racing, his blood quickening.  It was strangely familiar to him, but something about it sounded exotic and ancient, a song from long before time.  He felt as though she were calling to him in some name that only she knew, that even he himself had not known belonged to him.  He started in slowly, humming along with her now and again at the parts that seemed the most familiar to him.  Every note, every point of discord or harmony, seemed perfectly balanced, and he felt at peace in a way he had never known before.

                She turned her head then, and looked over her shoulder.  Though it had gone unnoticed before, Grimmjow could see now that the sky was graying over distant hills.  “The dawn is coming,” Hallibel whispered breathily, her voice heavy with hope.

                Her voice echoed in his ears as Grimmjow opened his eyes, the last beautiful strains of her song still clinging in his mind but dissipating all too quickly, like tendrils of smoke on the wind.  His heart ached at the loss of it, but he struggled to shake it off as he stood and stretched.  It was much later than he had intended, and he realized he may have regrettably slept through dinner.  He padded through the back rooms of the store, looking for a kitchen, or someone who could direct him.

                She lay on a table, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of her.  Urahara had explained the principal of the Gigai to him, but it could not have prepared him for this.

                Hallibel’s essence had been captured perfectly.  Her skin, the color of hot sand, was flawless.  Her sun-bleached hair was exactly as he recalled the last time he’d seen her.  Grimmjow looked on from the doorway, and part of him leered at the sight of her in nothing but a sheet.  A thought briefly flitted through his mind of taking advantage of her while she was completely incapacitated like this, but it was quickly replaced by the memory of his dream, and he could all but hear the last fading strains of her haunting song.  He realized it was only a body, and without her  _inside_ it, it seemed meaningless and empty to take such liberties.

                He walked into the room quietly, and stood over the Gigai, staring into its face.  She seemed almost dead, like this.  He reached his hand out, watching her eyes warily as though she were just about to awake, and grab his wrist defensively.  His thumb hovered cautiously over her lips, and he caressed them with a soft touch as he parted them slightly.   _There.  Now she looks like she’s just sleeping,_ he thought with self-satisfaction.  His fingertips brushed her cheek with a tenderness that was strange and new to him, coming from a place that he had never known before today.  “Goodnight, Hallibel,” he whispered.  “See you tomorrow.”

///////////

                “Hey, Urahara-san!”

                Grimmjow furrowed his brows, angry at being awakened by the loud calls of someone looking for the shop keeper.  He rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head, trying to escape back into blissful slumber.  The footsteps in the hallway stopped, and he heard his door slide open.  “Oi, Urahara-san?” the voice called.

                Grimmjow yanked the pillow off his head and cracked an eye up at the dumbstruck figure of Ichigo Kurosaki, standing slack-jawed in the doorway.  “There’s a thing they just invented, it’s called ‘knocking,’ you should try it, Kurosaki,” Grimmjow snarled.

                “G-Grimmjow?”  Ichigo was still in shock, not able to wrap his head around what his eyes were telling him.

                Grimmjow stretched lazily, and grinned up at Ichigo with a glint of mischief in his eye.  “After you get out of classes today, you should come back, and we can spar.  I always did enjoy fighting with you, and now I’ve got all the time in the world.”  He remembered what Urahara had told him the day before, and he added, “Not to the death, of course.  Just for fun.  Unless you’re too much of a chicken.”

                Ichigo nearly jumped out of his skin as the shop keeper clapped him firmly on the shoulder from behind.  “Oh, good morning, Kurosaki-san!  I see you’ve found Grimmjow.”  Urahara looked past Ichigo into the room, and spoke to the man lying there in the bed.  “Breakfast is ready.”

                “Thanks,” Grimmjow called after him, standing and giving a huge yawn and stretching again.  “Oi, Ichigo, it’s rude to stare,” he told the orange-haired teen, poking his finger into Ichigo’s eye.

                “OW!!  What the hell?!”  Ichigo grabbed his face and hopped around in pain.  “What did you do that for?”

                “I’m hungry, dammit,” Grimmjow snapped.  “I missed dinner last night, and you’re standing in my way.  Now move.”

                “It would have been better to have said, ‘Excuse me,’” a voice called, and Ichigo turned and stared in astonishment as Ulquiorra and Orihime came up behind him.  “I think Urahara-san needs to work with you today on your manners,” Ulquiorra told Grimmjow, who was standing with his arms crossed pensively.

                “Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime said brightly, though her face betrayed her.  She realized she’d been had; her big secret was out, and now she was going to have to spill the beans to everybody.   _Of all the people who had to find out first, why him?_ Orihime wondered.   _It’s going to be hard enough to tell the others, but…_ She looked at Ichigo, whom she used to have such a crush on, and realized it was only awkward in her own mind.  He had never really had feelings for her; not in the same way, anyhow.  He was protective of her, but he was that way with all his friends.  That was part of his nature, just as being cheerful and sweet was such a large part of hers.  She wound her fingers in Ulquiorra’s and took a deep breath.  “Um, I know this is kind of…  A surprise...”

                “Wait…”  Ichigo held his hand out to stop her.  “Do I want to know this?  This has been a really strange morning, and I’m expecting to wake up from this weird dream any minute.”

                “It wasn’t a dream.”

                They all turned to see Hallibel leaning in the doorway, draped in nothing but a white sheet.  She was staring intently at Grimmjow, and his eyes widened, wondering at the significance of her words.

                “Good morning, Hallibel!”  Orihime said with a smile.  “Welcome back.”

                The Tres gave a solemn nod of thanks to the other woman, and then turned to Ichigo.  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in line,” she told the Shinigami, motioning to Grimmjow, whose face grew hot with indignation.

                “Hey now, what the hell?” he snapped, taking a menacing step toward her. She looked severely at him, and straightened her shoulders.  Even though he had an easy four inches on her in height, her presence was commanding, and he bowed his head, looking away.   _No struggling for rank with that one,_ he thought dryly.   _I know exactly where_ we _stand, same as always…_ He felt a little put out for some reason at having been corrected by her, and in his pouting, he missed the sadness that flashed momentarily through her green eyes.

                “Come on, Kurosaki-kun, we’ll be late for class,” Orihime told her friend, motioning for him to hurry.  She unthinkingly gave Ulquiorra a chaste peck on the cheek out of pure habit, and then realizing she’d tipped her hand even further, glanced nervously over at Ichigo.

                He just shook his head and sighed, sounding resigned.  “You can explain all this to me at school.”  He trudged after Orihime, giving a final hesitant glance over his shoulder at the three Ex-Espada standing in the hallway.  Grimmjow leered, waving obnoxiously, and Hallibel thumped him on the back of the head.  “Knock it off,” she told him as she turned and headed toward the dining room.

                He rubbed at his head, though his pride was hurt more than his body.  He called after Ichigo, “See you after class, right?”  Ichigo waved without turning around, which Grimmjow took as confirmation, and he hurried after Hallibel.  “You can’t eat breakfast like that, put some clothes on, dammit!”

/////////

                After they had eaten, and Hallibel had gotten dressed, Urahara worked with them in the kitchen, teaching them how to cook.

                “Alright.  Now, it’s all in the wrist,” he told them.  He cracked an egg firmly on the counter, and split the shell, dumping the contents into a bowl.  Ulquiorra and Hallibel copied him easily, but Grimmjow was shaking, grinding his teeth with frustration.  He had crushed egg after egg, and not only were his hands and the counter covered in a sticky mess, but his bowl was full of pieces of shell.

                “Is this really necessary, dammit?” he shouted.  “Can’t I just learn manners or something and be done?”

                Hallibel sighed, and came up behind him.  Grimmjow froze as he felt her press against his back, and her arms snaked to either side of him, laying her hands over his as she moved together with him to pick up an egg.  “It’s not about cooking,” she told him as she demonstrated kinetically for him the exact amount of pressure to use.  “It’s about self control and discipline.  It’s about mastery of a skill.”  He watched as she pressed his fingers into the crack in the shell, and pried it apart, dropping the egg and white into the bowl without a single fragment of shell.  “Now you do it.”

                She stepped away from him, and though his body was trembling, his mind felt curiously still. He cracked the shell with a sharp tap, and repeated the process precisely.

                “Well,” Urahara confided, “It kind of _is_  about cooking.  Poor Ulquiorra was starving half to death; he should learn to prepare something he’ll actually eat.”

                “I meant it’s about more than what you see on the surface,” Hallibel clarified, indicating to Grimmjow to try it again.  “Like the egg, there’s something of value buried inside of it; you just have to find out how to crack the shell.”  He easily cracked the egg this time, and gave a small smile.

                “Hallibel-san, you sound like a Taoist monk,” Urahara laughed.  He paused, and snapped his fingers.  “That’s it!  Are you familiar with Tai-Chi?”

                She cocked her head inquisitively at him.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

                “Tessai!”  Urahara called, and his assistant appeared from the depths of the shop.  “Kindly take Hallibel-san down into the basement, and teach her some basic Tai-Chi forms, will you?”

                “Yes sir,” Tessai bowed, and Hallibel followed him to find out what this was all about.

                Urahara tapped his folded fan thoughtfully against his pursed lips.  “Hmmm…  We need to find some way to teach you through something that engages you…”  He looked toward Ulquiorra.  “What interests you?”

                Ulquiorra stared blankly at the shop keeper.  “Cooking does not disinterest me,” he stated.

                “Oh, ok...”  He turned to Grimmjow.  “So, what are your interests?”

                Grimmjow had to think hard for a while.  “Fighting with Ichigo, I guess?”  He shrugged.

                “No no no…  We have to find something that can channel your energy, and hold your focus, that’s non-violent.  You are strictly forbidden from fighting until we get this straightened out.”

                Grimmjow ground his teeth, feeling his ire rising.   _What am I, some child that people feel they need to punish me and set rules for me?_ He glared icily at the shop keeper.

                “See?  You’re getting angry already, look at that.”  Urahara tapped his fan to his lip again.  “There’s got to be something…  What about music?”

                “Music?”  Grimmjow was taken off guard by that.  “What do you mean, music?”  For a moment, he thought he remembered the strains of the song from his dream, and it sent a hushing calm over him instantly.

                “Aha…” Urahara grinned knowingly.  “I have just the thing!”  He ran in back, and returned with an acoustic guitar, and a book.  “It’s dusty, but it’ll probably work for our purposes.”  He slipped the strap over his head, and gave it an experimental strum.

                The sound echoed in Grimmjow’s mind, and its melody perked his ears.  It was soothing.  He watched as Urahara twisted some pegs on the end of it, strumming experimentally as the tone changed.  “This book has basic beginner’s instructions, why don’t you sit down over here and look through it while Ulquiorra and I whip up some lunch out of all these eggs.”  He passed the instrument to Grimmjow, who took it cautiously, but nodded.

                As he plucked at the guitar in the corner, glancing occasionally at the book, Urahara and Ulquiorra worked on making some omelets out of all the eggs.  The shop keeper glanced over occasionally at Grimmjow, and grinned to himself.  “Music soothes the savage beast,” he murmured under his breath with a smile.

                Grimmjow was surprised.  The music  _was_ calming to him, but figuring out how to operate this infernal instrument was having quite the opposite effect on him.  His irritation was building until he couldn’t take it anymore; he stood, and with a roar, smashed the body of the guitar repeatedly against the ground, splintering it into fragments.

                Urahara frowned at the disruption.  “Maybe an electric guitar…” he muttered under his breath.

///////////

                A week had passed. 

                Ulquiorra was mastering the art of cooking with a zeal that surprised even himself.  Everyone looked forward to his meals, except for the one person who mattered to him.  It would take still more time for him to learn the exotic tastes of his beloved, but until such a time as that, she was satisfied to slather his cooking with strange sauces.

                Grimmjow had received an electric guitar and a small amp from the over-generous shop keeper, on the stipulation that he keep the volume at a reasonable level.  There had been points of contention between the two of them regarding the exact definition of ‘reasonable,’ but nevertheless, he was growing with remarkable skill in the instrument.

                Hallibel had proven herself to be quite proficient at Tai Chi, among other disciplines, and had actually found employment as a Martial Arts instructor, thanks to some falsified documents courtesy of Urahara.  She was moving into her own apartment, rented with a loan from Urahara, pending her first paycheck.

                On her last night in the shop, Grimmjow was feeling unexplainably moody and irritable.  He wasn’t sure why it should matter so much to him that Hallibel was leaving in the morning.  She was only going a few blocks away, but it bothered him that he wouldn’t be seeing as much of her as he had grown accustomed to over the past week.  She was cold, and he was often rude to her, but he realized he still had feelings for her, after all these decades.  A sadness overcame him when he realized that she probably only saw him as an annoyance.

                Hallibel was walking down the hall, and her ears picked up soft music.  It seemed sort of familiar to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on where from.  She followed the sound to Grimmjow’s room.  He sat on his bed, back against the wall, eyes closed, bowed low over his guitar as he softly strummed by candle light.  She stood watching him for a few moments, lost in the melody that he was struggling to find.  This was an altogether different Grimmjow than she had ever known before; he was soft, quiet, focused, and calm.  He was the complete opposite of the usual Grimmjow, from the battle field.

                “What’s that song?”

                He looked up, startled to see Hallibel standing in his doorway.  He fumbled with the guitar, losing his train of thought, the song gone again like the scent of a flower in the wind.  “Oh, I don’t know.  Just something I made up.  I think I heard it once in a dream.”  Their eyes met for a long moment, and he wondered silently if she remembered being in that place, or if it had in fact just been in his own mind.

                “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

                 Chills ran up his spine at the sound of her words.  “Thank you,” he murmured, casting his eyes away from her.  The silence hung with a heavy awkwardness.  “So, big day tomorrow, huh?”

                Hallibel could hear the sad undertone to his words, and it gave her a pang in her chest.  “Yes.”

                He nodded somberly, and heaved a heavy sigh.  “Well, don’t be stranger, k?”  He gave her one of his skewed, cavalier, signature Grimmjow grins, and though she could tell it was forced, it made her laugh.   _That laugh…_ His heart felt like it would break into a million pieces at the sound of it, it was so beautiful to him.

                “You’re such a goof, Grimmjow,” she told him, a warm smile on her face.

                He spread his arms out.  “Hey, that’s me, right?”  It was forced, and he knew it sounded lame, but he didn’t know what else to say.  He couldn’t tell her what he really wanted to.   _Don’t leave.  Come lay here with me.  We can pretend the ceiling is the sky, and the sheets are the sand, and it’ll be just like old times._ He sighed.   _So much gone unsaid, between us.  I guess I thought things would be different, now…  But why would they be?_

                Hallibel saw him retreating into a pensive, dark mood.  She wanted to reach out to him, but didn’t know how to get to him, wherever it was he’d gone to in his mind.  She was saddened by this, and wished he was able to open up to her, but maybe he wasn’t even sure himself what the problem was.  All these emotions they were experiencing were new, and the shop keeper had told them that since Grimmjow had technically still been alive when he had been pulled out of his body, it was likely he would feel his new emotions more intensely than the others.  Hallibel thought with a twinge of sorrow,  _That is especially cruel for him, because he was always so intense to begin with._ She sighed.  “Well, goodnight, Grimmjow.”  He nodded in acknowledgement, but did not look up.

                Hallibel continued past her own room, and went onto the front porch.  The moonlight shone down from the cloudless sky, casting hazy blue shadows on the ground.  She gazed up at it, resting her head against a column, something about the warmth in the breeze making her feel a little nostalgic and homesick for Las Noches.

                Waraji-clad feet landed with a whisper in the yard, and Hallibel looked down, peering into the shadows.  “So, the rumors were true,” a voice said, quivering.  Rangiku Matsumoto stepped into the moonlight.  “I had heard, but I had to see it for myself…”

                “Hello, Matsumoto,” Hallibel said, the gentleness in her voice disarming the Shinigami.  “Please, before you come another step…  I need to apologize to you.”

                Matsumoto froze, and peered hard through the darkness, trying to read the face of the Ex-Espada.  “What do you mean?”

                “I want you to know, the past is in the past for me.  I hope you can put things behind us, and we can both walk from this place tonight as friends.  This is a new beginning for me; for all of us, really.  Please, don’t let anyone take that from us.”  Her green eyes shimmered, pleading with the Shinigami.

                Matsumoto was stunned.  “I didn’t come here to fight you, Hallibel, but thank you for that anyway.”  She reached into her kosode and pulled a note from alongside her ample bosom.  The moonlight glinted off the seal, and Hallibel could see it was official correspondence from the Captain Commander.  “I have a letter to deliver to Kisuke.”

                “Why did they send such an important letter to be delivered by hand?  Couldn’t they have sent the message by Hell Butterfly?” Hallibel asked. 

                The question seemed to come more from a place of curious information seeking than personal challenge, and Matsumoto was willing to reply.  “Soul Society has heard of all the Arrancar resurrections going on over here, and they’re putting a stop to it.”  She hesitated a moment, and then with a touch of sorrow, added, “…And I had something I wanted to speak with Kisuke about… Personally.”

                “Come inside,” Hallibel invited, sweeping her arm in a welcoming manner.  Matsumoto smiled and followed her, laying her hand on the Ex-Espada’s shoulder in a gesture of goodwill.

///////////

                Grimmjow woke to the late morning sun.  He didn’t want to get out of bed.  He knew he had missed his chance already to say goodbye to Hallibel this morning, and the day felt wasted already.  But his stomach churned in protest, and he dragged himself up and into the dining room to see what there might be left for him to scrounge.

                He was not prepared for the sight that met his eyes.  Nearly everyone was there.  Urahara, Orihime, Ulquiorra, Kurosaki, Chad, Ishida, Rukia, Renji, Hallibel, Hitsugaya, Matsumoto…  And sprawled across her lap, being blissfully fed grapes, was none other than the smirking idiot, Gin Ichimaru.  Everyone seemed engaged in a rather enthusiastic argument.

                “In my own defense,” Urahara was saying, “I didn’t open the letter until after I had already channeled his soul into the Gigai.”

                “No doubt, by careful planning,” Captain Histugaya growled, pinning Matsumoto with a furious glare that went entirely unnoticed by her.  She was completely enrapt, as was Gin, the two of them happily absorbed in each other.  “The High Court had ruled that the Arrancar whom you resurrected didn’t hold any specific threat to Soul Society, once inhabiting Gigai, and if you agreed to rehabilitate them…”

                “Which I have done!” Kisuke cried.  He threw his arm around Hallibel’s shoulder and pulled her close.  “Look at Hallibel here, she’s my star pupil, she has a job and everything!”

                “…But  _this_ individual,” Hitsugaya snapped, pointing at the white-haired man sprawled in Matsumoto’s lap, “Is a traitor to Soul Society, and must be tried and executed.”

                “Oh, honestly,  _Taicho,_ you’re over-reacting,” Matsumoto scolded, waving at him dismissively as she giggled, feeding Gin another grape.  “He’s completely harmless.  Have the trial, he’ll be found innocent.”

                “My motives were pure, although I admit, poorly executed,” Gin admitted.  “I was just trying to protect Rangiku-san…”  They devolved into incomprehensible lovey-dovey babbling, rubbing noses and giggling at eachother.

                “I think it’s sweet,” Orihime said with a smile, reaching over and taking Ulquiorra’s hand.

                “The fact remains,” Histugaya sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “that you have broken the edict handed down by the High Court, Urahara.”

                “Not so,” Ulquiorra interjected, scanning over the letter.  “This letter clearly states that Urahara-san is henceforth forbidden from using his technology from resurrecting any more Arrancar, specifically the Espada.”  He glanced at Matsumoto and Gin.  “He, clearly, is not one of the Espada.  Therefore, he is excluded from this edict anyway.”

                “HA!” Urahara laughed, pointing his fan at Histugaya, who only scowled further.  “Ulquiorra, I should get you a job as a lawyer…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That’s it, everyone! This turned out to be a little two-shot; I was planning for longer, but that’s all there was on this one. I’ve been grinding hard on the follow-up to this, “Pina Colada Espada,” but that has heavy LEMON planned. It will probably turn out to be a two or three chapter piece. Get your fangirl screaming ready for DOMINANT Hallibel, and submissive Grimmjow! I adore your comments, they are so encouraging to me! UPDATE: Pina Colada Espada is completed now, and availible here on A-FF, so check it out if you want some to find out what happens between Hallibel and Grimmjow, it has my longest, hottest Lemon to date! There is a side-story WIP right now, Visions of Persimmon, which follows the story of Rangiku and Gin, from the end of the Winter War through the scenes here, and beyond, taking them into some of the content mentioned in The Ties That Bind Us. (It's less like a series, and more like a deranged octopus, sorry...) I'll catch up eventually with getting it all cross-posted here.

**Author's Note:**

> *geta: traditional wooden Japanese sandals
> 
> ** Reitsu: Spiritual Pressure
> 
> *** Tsukirei: A spirit who is trapped in the World of the Living, but bound to a living individual, their Soul Chain wrapped around that person.
> 
> **** Jinzen: A Soul Reaper (Shinigami) meditation technique in which they connect with their Zanupakto spirit in their inner world.


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